


It wasn't that deep

by Sharky456



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Death, F/F, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24630286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharky456/pseuds/Sharky456
Summary: Whiskey isn't that deep. Even when you think hard about it.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	It wasn't that deep

A bottle of whiskey and a tumbler. A pack of smokes and the vastness of the field behind the homestead. 

  
What was it about whiskey that gave people more weight to their character? 

  
It wasn’t that deep.

  
Nicole unscrewed the cap off the bottle and poured herself two fingers of the amber liquid.

  
Everyone thought whiskey drinkers were serious, or people who took themselves too seriously. Important people in important places sipping on anniversary editions Macallan, Laphroaig or whatever else the industry let sit in barrels for a decade or two.   
Personally, Nicole liked the slight burn along with the wood notes. Mostly she liked how it reminded her of her grandfather. 

  
He was a good man, if a little rough around the edges and a bit stern. That was his upbringing though, his time in the police, too, maybe. Times were different then. But he was always kind to her and her cousins, always poured her a glass of his current favourite whenever she’d visit.

  
Nicole took a sip and looked out, a bottle of VAT 69 and a soft pack of marlboro red in a glass ashtray on the small side table next to her chair. In her hand she flipped a beat-up zippo, engraved with “N. Haught”, though it wasn’t hers, in her other hand she squeezed the tumbler.

  
She sighed and unbuttoned the top button of her black shirt and loosened her dark blue tie. They were supposed to crack this bottle open together. She sat drinking it alone now. 

  
Careful but absent fingers teared the cigarette pack on one corner. Practiced motions tapped the pack against her black slacks and then against a finger, a couple of cigarettes slipped half way out. She raised the pack to her lips and gently picked one with her teeth.

  
The zippo flickered to life with the scrape of the wheel against the flint stone and she took a deep drag.

  
Her mind was mostly empty. She knew that her grandfather was gone a long time ago, the shell that remained after his brain aneurysm was but a weak imitation of the man she looked up to. He’s better now, she was sure. Probably arguing with Pete at the gates, such he was, always standing by his opinions. 

  
She chuckled at the thought and raised her glass to the sky as if in a toast before drinking. 

  
That’s how Waverly found her, chair tipped back against the wall on two legs and a bittersweet expression on her face. The funeral was simple with few people invited, it was a bit hazy for the readhead. The drive back to purgatory even worse. 

  
Nicole hoped he would still be with them when she proposed. If he could have only held on for another month. Charon had other plans she guessed. 

  
Her girlfriend righted her chair with a warm hand on her shoulder. She pressed a kiss to her temple and then sat on her thigh.   
She didn’t say anything. Waverly knew Nicole didn’t need her to say anything. 

  
So they sat there, sharing a glass of good whiskey and pretending they picked up its nuances among the cigarette smoke and their own feelings. 

  
Maybe it was that deep.

  
Maybe it was about the burn down ones throat and the smokiness coating ones tongue. The hurt in the memories it invoked of loved ones lost, and the joy in its lingering taste on a lover’s lips. 


End file.
